What's Your Price For a Night?

Rosella's POV

I tilted my head lazily, my eyes dropping to his hand before meeting those hazel eyes again.

“Is there something else, Mr. Blake?”

A slow, dangerous smirk curled at the corner of his mouth.

“Confidence looks good on you, Amber,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving mine. “But I can feel you trembling.”

My toes curled involuntarily.

How the hell does he know?

I tried to stay composed, but he was right—my spine was shivering, and my heart was hammering over the club’s bass.

"Adrenaline," I forced out.

I leaned back toward him just an inch. "Being this close to a man like you is... overwhelming.”

His gaze never wavered.

“I see…” he murmured, a faint, dangerous edge lacing his tone. “It’s rare to find a woman with such audacity.”

I stayed silent, holding his gaze.

He leaned in closer, the scent of Tom Ford Oud Wood thick in the air. “So, tell me… what’s your price for a night? A night with the Dunes Boss.”

I stiffened.

It was exactly what I’d been praying for—a golden ticket into his private quarters, but I couldn't look too eager. Trust me, a hunter knows when the bait is too easy.

"I’m a server, Mr. Luca, not a commodity," I replied, forcing a flash of indignant pride into my eyes. "I don't have a price... because I’m not for sale."

"Everyone has a price," he countered, his thumb tracing the pulse point on my wrist, which was currently betraying me like a frantic drum. "Some want gold… some want power… some just want to survive. I wouldn't take no for an answer tonight, Amber.”

He dragged his heated stare over me. “Name the price.”

I let a long, calculated silence stretch between us.

"I don't want your money, Blake," I whispered, dropping the formal title. "The experience of a man like you... that’s payment enough."

A dark, knowing grin pulled at his lips. He stood up abruptly, never releasing my hand, and pulled me with him.

The exit from the VIP lounge felt like a carefully staged display of power. A line of guards—huge, expressionless men moved in instantly, clearing a path through the crowded club.

People gasped and pulled back, whispering as Blake moved through his territory with me beside him. I felt like I’d been pulled out of my world and dropped into his.

I spotted Murphy near the bar and winked at him, before Blake led me toward the private gold-plated elevator.

The doors hissed shut, cutting off the club’s thumping bass. When they opened again, it felt like stepping into a different world.

We moved into his private quarters, the definition of lethal luxury. The air was cool, carrying the scent of his expensive cologne. The space was dimly lit, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city like a glowing, silent map.

Guards began pacing the corridors outside with military precision, their shadows flickering against the frosted glass doors. Only one guy followed us inside—leaner than the others, eyes like the predatory focus of a hawk.

I didn't wait for an invitation, I yanked off my clutch, tossed it onto the massive plush bed, and sat down. I crossed my legs, leaning back on my elbows in a majestic sprawl, my eyes locked on Blake.

He sat on a deep cushion armchair across from the bed, watching me with that same unreadable expression.

“Boss… will you be needing a server?” the guy asked, glancing toward Blake.

“Not yet, Lucien.”

Blake gave Lucien a subtle signal, and Lucien responded at once. He moved immediately to the glass-front wine chiller, selecting a perfectly chilled bottle of Château Margaux. He poured the deep crimson liquid into two crystal glasses, offering one to me with a slight incline of his head before setting the other within Blake’s reach.

Blake's stare on me was unnerving, like being studied by a scientist before a dissection.

My skin felt tight, but my mind stayed sharp, already cataloging the exits and the safe hidden behind the painting near the desk.

“That’s all for now,” Blake said with a slight nod to Lucien.

Lucien gave a sharp nod in return and stepped out, the heavy sound of the bolt clicking into place.

Blake snapped his cold gaze back to me. "Amber… so, what have you got for me tonight?"

I was midway through my third sip of the wine, “Everything...” I breathed.

“Then, show me.”

I lowered the glass, giving him a slow, daring smile. I pushed myself to my feet and moved toward him, each step unhurried and deliberate without breaking eye contact.

But something felt off—floor shifting slightly beneath me, as if the room had tilted just a fraction, my vision wavering at the edges, sharpening and softening under the dim light.

Blake didn’t move, he just watched as I closed the distance between us.

My heartbeat grew heavier in my ears, slower now, dragging against my ribs.

What's wrong? Why do I feel this sudden dizziness?

I kept my smile in place, though my grip on the glass tightened faintly as a strange heat spread through my body, subtle at first, then deeper, wrong.

I lowered myself slowly to my knees between his legs. He reached for me, his fingers grazing mine where they were wrapped tightly around the wine glass. Without a word, he eased it from my grasp. The cool crystal flute slipped effortlessly into his hand, and he set it aside on the table beside him, eyes on me.

My lips parted on a soft exhale as the edges of the room blurred even more.

"Everything, huh?" Blake murmured, his voice edged with amusement.

He leaned back, his thighs spreading wider beneath my hands as I pressed my palms against the rough denim of his pants, my fingers fumbling toward his belt buckle.

I wanted his control to slip, to hear my name torn from him—rough, unguarded. But the heat in my stomach deepened into something heavier, unfamiliar. My body stopped keeping up—my fingers moved sluggishly against him, my thoughts outpacing what I could do. I felt myself slipping out of sync, like I wasn’t fully controlling my own movements anymore.

My fingertips managed to work the buckle open with clumsy determination, the metal rasping softly beneath my touch. I tugged the zipper down inch by inch, exposing the thick bulge straining against his blue briefs.

I hooked my fingers into the waistband and yanked it down, freeing him. His shaft sprung up heavy and thick, veins pulsing along the length, the flushed head already glistening with a bead of precum.

The musky scent hit my nostrils, making my mouth water even as my vision swam.

I leaned in without thinking, my breath ghosting over the soft skin before my lips parted to take it all in.

I wrapped my mouth around the broad tip, tongue swirling slowly, tasting the sharp tang of his arousal as it smeared across my taste buds.

My cheeks hollowed in suction, drawing him deeper, the girth stretching my jaw as I bobbed forward, my saliva slicking his length with wet slurps that filled the quiet room.

"Fuck, yeah," Blake groaned, his hand tangling in my hair—not pulling... just holding, fingers threading through the strands as his hips twitched upward.

My movements were sloppy, my body swaying slightly on my knees, thighs pressing together against the insistent throb between my legs.

“Uhnn…” I moaned around his shaft, my free hand gripping his base to stroke what I couldn't take in.

I pulled off with a gasp, strings of spit connecting my swollen lips to his glistening cockhead.

“Blake. Why can’t I think straight? What… what did you do to me?" I slurred, voice thick, my hand still pumping his slick length lazily as I tilted my head up to him.

My pussy clenched emptily, slickness soaking my panties, but my coordination was fraying, knees aching against the hardwood floor.

A low, rough sound slipped from Blake’s throat, more felt than heard. His fingers twisted deeper into my hair, angling my face back toward his cock.

“What I had to, slut. You think I'd let some tease like you call the shots?"

He shoved my mouth down onto him brutally, his hips bucking to fuck past my lips, the salty glans battering my throat.

I gagged wetly, tears pricking my eyes, but my body betrayed me—sucking harder, tongue laving greedily as the numbness dragged me deeper into haze.

"Choke on my dick. That's all you're good for tonight."

My head spun, the room tilting harder, but I couldn't stop.

I hollowed my cheeks again, bobbing with desperate rhythm, my slurps louder, messier, drool spilling down my chin onto his balls. I wanted to push up, to crawl into his lap and kiss him, taste his mouth while my body burned, my nipples peaking painfully against my dress, and clit pulsing with neglected need.

I released his cock with a loud “pop,” strings of saliva dangling, and surged upward clumsily, lips seeking his.

He caught my shoulders and shoved me back down hard, my forehead nearly bumping his thigh.

"No fucking way," he snarled, meanness lacing his words. "Mouth on my cock only, Amber. You don't get my kiss… you get only my cum down your throat. Keep sucking like the drugged-up whore you are."

“Huh?” I whimpered.

Did he just say drugged?

He yanked my head further, angling it right back to his cock… my lips obeyed, sealing around his throbbing shaft once more. My sucks grew fervent, head bobbing faster despite the lead in my limbs, the wet gluck-gluck of my throat taking him deep.

Blake's breaths turned ragged, his free hand gripping the armrest, knuckles white as my tongue worked the sensitive ridge beneath his cock head, my hand twisting at the base with slick twists.

The heat in my core built unbearably, pussy dripping, but my eyes drooped, body slumping forward against his legs.

My movements slowed, sucks turning weak and sloppy, tongue dangling heavy over his cock as my head reclined.

"Bluh... Blake..." I mumbled around his girth.

“Fuck! passing out with my dick in your mouth? Pathetic," he grumbled, the last thing I heard before darkness took me.